


A Normal Life's Compromise

by ishouldwritethatdown



Series: Useless Rinch Trash [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Casual, Domestic, First Date, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7440892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishouldwritethatdown/pseuds/ishouldwritethatdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John may not be able to have a "normal" life with Iris, but that doesn't mean he can't find happiness in his abnormal life. (Post-5x03 "Truth Be Told")</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Normal Life's Compromise

It wasn't often John wished to not be in Harold's company.

"Mr. Reese, I really think if you just talked to Miss Campbell..."

Today was an exception.

"It's not impossible for you to maintain some aspects of a normal life, even in times such as these. And-"

It had been going on for almost a full hour now. Felt like twenty.

"-you don't have to distance yourself from Iris, John, if you just called her and explained-"

"Explained what, Finch?" John interrupted, exhausted. "I couldn't tell her what's going on. This whole time you've emphasised that I had to be selective about what I tell her. Keeping secrets and withholding information - it's not exactly the foundation of a healthy relationship."

Harold's brow was creased, "I'm sure Miss Campbell understands why you have to-"

"How could she, when I couldn't tell her anything?" John was getting increasingly exasperated. He sighed, "As we are now, a normal relationship isn't an option. It's imbalanced. I don't want to do that to Iris."

Harold was quiet. "You deserve to be happy with your life John," he said.

"And Iris deserves to not have her's ruined by AI Armageddon," John replied solemnly.

Neither of them said anything for a few moments. John thought he might be free of the discussion, when:

"Even so, I think it could be beneficial-"

John groaned loudly to cut him off. "For God's sake, Finch. Can you just drop it?"

"I'm concerned for your wellbeing, John," Harold reasoned.

John smiled sardonically. "I'm fine, Harold."

"John-"

"If you're so concerned with my love life, why don't you just date me?" John yelled.

There was a stunned silence in which the world itself seemed to fall to a hush.

One

Two

Three seconds passed.

John went red and scanned the floor for something to distract himself. There were a couple of dirty, trampled receipts stuck fast to the Subway floor. He just asked Harold out. Shit. Shit. He hadn't meant that. Or he had, but he hadn't meant to say it out loud. Shit.

Harold didn't say anything. John's hands had become clammy and he was contemplating just sprinting from the Subway. He reminded himself that that was absurd. He could say he was taking Bear for a walk, that was more plausible.

Wait, but Root had taken Bear for an errand earlier that day. John was just about to begin the blueprints for Plan C when Harold interrupted his thoughts.

"Do you want to?" he asked, not shocked exactly, but not entirely at ease, as if unsure of the invitation.

John didn't answer for several more seconds, as his race for an exit strategy had removed all context from his mind. He stared at Finch with a searching expression for a moment; then it clicked.

"Date you? Yes! I mean, I-," he blundered, "If you want. I... guess." He grinned nervously. He was ready to walk out, there and then, to avoid continuing this conversation. If it could even be considered a conversation, with his half of it mostly mumbling and stuttering.

Harold smiled, gently. "Okay," he replied. His face continued to flicker with a broader smile in that way it did. Every tense muscle in John's body relaxed as he observed Harold's adorableness.

"Let's start with dinner," Harold said. He went into an analytical and organised voice and began listing places they could go - some of which he ruled out mid-sentence on account of him no longer being a billionaire.

John had to stop himself from pointing out that a first date wasn't totally necessary when they had known each other for five years.

\---

When John rang the doorbell, his hands were sweaty. This is ridiculous, he thought, taking a steady breath. I've  
known him for five years. We're just having dinner.

It didn't help.

After much deliberation, they had decided to eat at Harold's apartment. It would be much more comfortable for both of them, not to mention less expensive.

When Harold opened the door he was greeted with a bundle of gifts, behind which John presumably hid, somewhere. Harold extracted the wine first, it being the most fragile.

"I wasn't sure what to bring so I just got... everything," John explained sheepishly, handing over the chocolate and then the flowers.

Finch was wearing a look of pleasant surprise. "Well, come on in, John." Then, to himself, "I'll need to find a vase for these..." The yellow luminosity of the tulips reflected on his glasses.

Harold had cooked an Italian pasta dish for dinner. It was nice, and the meal was punctuated with lighthearted smalltalk. John's nerves gradually melted away. It was easy to relax around Harold; he felt safe with him.

There were out-of-place books scattered around the living room. John thought he recognised a couple as being former residents of the kitchen, so Harold must have needed the room while he was cooking.

As Harold browsed for a book from his relative library, John flicked through the channels on the tv. There were a couple of classic mundane action movies on, which might have been entertainingly inaccurate if he was in the mood. He skipped over the trashy talk shows and celebrity game shows with a sigh.

"I find that television rarely matches the excitement of even our everyday lives, nowadays," Harold commented, taking a seat on the sofa with book in hand.

John turned the tv off in resignation and opened the box of chocolates he had brought along. "A boring night every so often isn't so bad," he replied, carefully selecting the coffee truffle.

Harold took the strawberry creme. "I hope I haven't bored you, Mr. Reese," he joked.

"No, I didn't mean-" John's cheeks warmed. "I just meant-"

"I know what you meant, John," Harold assured him. "It's a sentiment I often entertain myself."

John smiled, relieved. He let the chocolatey truffle melt a little on his tongue, savouring the bitterness of the coffee. He settled his head on Harold's lap while opened his book. John closed his eyes, feeling the gentle warmth cocooning them.

Harold began to run the fingers of his free hand through John's hair. It was relaxing, and John could feel himself sinking into the soft cushions. His breathing was in sync with Harold's, deep and measured.

Every once in a while, boring was exactly as exciting as you needed it to be.


End file.
